GIFT  OF 


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HEART  MELODY 


CARRIE  JUDL>  MONTGOMERY 


AUTHOR  OF 


PRAYER  OF  FAITH,"    "SECRETS  OF  VICTORY,' 
"LILIES  FROM  THE  VALE  OF  THOUGHT" 
AND  "HEART  WHISPERINGS" 


OFFICE  OF  TRIUMPHS  OF  FAITH 

BEULAH   HEIGHTS        OAKLAND,  CALIF. 


.  S.  Kitchene 


COPYRIGHTED  1922 
BY  CARRIE  JUDD  MONTGOMERY 


I'tt 


C'T'O  my  dear  Husband,  Qeorge  S.  ^Montgomery , 

tohose  toting  sympathy  and  faithful  help,  e~\>er 

since  our  marriage  in  1890,  hate  enabled  me  to  labor 

"more  abundantly"  for  the  tJYCaster,  tohom 

tpe  both  serte,  this  little  Volume  is 

lovingly  dedicated. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Abraham  Lincoln 35 

Angels'  Message,  The 17 

Among  the  Lilies 31 

Apple  of  His  Eye,  The 45 

As  Thy  Days 30 

Autumnal  Memories 23 

Baby's    Hands 87 

Behold,  I  Make  All  Things  New 65 

Blest  Christmas  Morn 39 

Broken  Heart,  A 33 

Breath  of  Morn,  The 29 

Called  Up  Higher 59 

Changing  Hills  of  California,  The 27 

Christmas  Sign,  The 71 

Come  With  Me 79 

Compensation 16 

Dancing  Leaves 56 

Day  of  Days,  The 25 

Dove  of  Peace,  The 43 

Eye  Hath  Not  Seen 53 

Fettered 77 

Folded  Wings 72 

Full   Tides 49 

God's    Good-Night 57 

God's  Symphony 94 

Greed  of  Gold,  The 82 

Heart  of  Gold 64 

His  Own  Elect 50 

"I  Will  Not  Let  Thee  Go" 68 

Law  of  Giving,  The 19 

Lord  Is  It  I? 84 

Love's  Offspring 89 


CONTENTS 

PACE 

Love  Perfected 48 

Mother's  Watch-Care 97 

My  Cup  Runneth  Over 67 

My  Olive  Branch 99 

My  Spikenard 34 

Night  Voices...- 91 

No  More  Twain 47 

Praise   at  Midnight 51 

Primeval    Redwoods 41 

Showing  Himself  Through  the  Lattice 75 

Sing  Alway 73 

Sing  On,  Love  On,  Serve  On 13 

"Somebody  Hath  Touched  Me" 102 

Sunset  Glory 62 

Sweet  Love  of  Christ 55 

Sanctuary  Nest,  The 46 

Sea,  The 85 

Sea  and  the  Shell,  The 26 

Smitten  Rock,  The 40 

Song  at  Night,  The 81 

Snowdrop,  The 37 

Springtide  of  the  Soul,  The 69 

Take  Me,  Break  Me,  Make  Me 20 

Then  Shall  We  Know 95 

Toward  the  Light 93 

True  Greatness 38 

Vessels  of  Mercy -- 21 

Voice  of  the  Sea,  The 22 

"Willows  By  the  Water  Courses" 61 

Windows  of  Heaven 14 

Worship 101 

Worship  in  the  Forest 83 


Introductory 


| HIS  little  volume  of  poems  by  Carrie  Judd 
Montgomery  goes  forth  to  bless  the  world 
with  its  richness  of  faith  and  hope.  Mrs. 
Montgomery's  life  has  been  an  inspiration 
to  those  of  us  who  have  known  her.  Abso 
lute  trust  in  God,  firm  belief  in  an  all-sufficient  Saviour, 
a  listening  ear  into  which  the  Holy  Spirit  whispers,  all 
are  revealed  in  these  stanzas. 

These  lines  will  carry  a  consoling  and  enkindling  mes 
sage  to  palace  and  cottage,  in  city  and  country,  on  plain 
and  mountain  side.  Sad  hearts  will  be  comforted,  heed 
less  souls  restrained  from  worldly  folly  and  triumphant 
souls  will  thank  God  and  take  courage  for  greater  service, 
as  these  songs  are  read  and  pondered. 

Go  forth,  blest  volume,  far  and  wide,  with  your  Chris 
tian  cheer  for  the  hearts  of  earthly  pilgrims.  Tell  them 
in  your  own  sweet  words  that  perfect  love  casteth  out 
fear.  Show  them  the  "water  brooks"  and  teach  them  to 
"Sing  on,"  "Love  on,"  and  "Serve  on." 

May  the  author  of  this  book,  from  her  Beulah  Home 
of  Peace,  long  set  before  us  her  triumphs  of  faith  and 
show  us  how  to  live  victoriously. 

S.  P.  MEADS, 

5325  Underwood  Ave., 
Oakland,  California. 


SING  ON,  LOVE  ON,  SERVE  ON 

Sing  on,  my  soul, 

No  song  shall  ever  die; 
Thy  notes  of  sacred  fire 

Rise  higher  still  and  higher, 
Till  piercing  Love's  own  sky; 

Sing  on,  my  soul,  sing  on. 

Love  on,  my  heart, 

No  love  of  thine  is  lost; 
Love  bleeds  to  overflow, 

Love  dies  its  love  to  show, 
But  never  counts  the  cost; 

Love  on,  my  heart,  love  on. 

Serve  on,  my  soul, 

Love's  service  ne'er  shall  fail; 
Though  life  itself  seems  vain, 

Though  love  knows  but  love's  pain, 
Love  sees  through  Heaven's  veil; 

Serve  on,  my  soul,  serve  on. 

13 


WINDOWS  OF  HEAVEN 


"Bring  ye  all  the  tithes  into  the  storehouse  ....  and  prove  Me  now 
herewith,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  if  I  will  not  open  you  the  windows  of 
heaven,  and  pour  you  out  a  blessing,  that  there  shall  not  be  room  enough 
to  receive  it." — Malachi  3:10. 


Would  you  see  the  golden  windows 

Open  wide  in  beauty  bright; 
Would  you  see  them  pour  in  blessing 

Dazzling  floods  of  heaven's  light? 
Would  you  feel  that  tide  of  glory 

In  its  warmth  of  light  and  love, 
Quicken  all  your  weary  being 

With  the  fulness  from  above? 

Precious  heart,  your  Saviour  waiteth 

With  the  love-light  in  His  face, 
Waits  to  "pour  you  out  a  blessing," 

Waits  to  have  you  prove  His  grace, 
Waits  and  pleads  with  tender  mercy 

That  His  gifts  you  may  not  miss, 
Waits  with  all  a  Father's  longing 

To  bestow  His  sweetest  bliss. 

Will  you  bring  the  "tithes"  He  longs  for? 

"All  the  tithes"  of  hallowed  love, 
Will  you  bring  them  to  His  storehouse 

In  the  love-lit  land  above? 
He  will  empty  out  His  fulness, 

All  the  wealth  of  heaven's  King, 
And  will  fill  to  overflowing 

Every  vessel  you  may  bring. 

14 


WINDOWS  OF  HEAVEN 

Jesus  is  the  Father's  Storehouse, 

Long  you've  robbed  Him  of  your  love, 
Long  delayed  the  promised  blessing 

At  the  Mercy  Seat  above. 
But  the  sweet  entreaty  ever 

Soundeth  forth  on  angel  tongue; 
Jesus  waits  your  full  surrender 

Ere  the  golden  gates  are  swung. 

And  an  added  blessing  rises 

On  the  promise-laden  air, 
Never  more  shall  buds  of  Springtime 

Fade  and  wither  in  despair. 
Christ  will  stay  the  Fell  Destroyer 

In  thy  body,  soul  and  mind, 
All  the  hope  of  vine  and  harvest 

Shall  its  full  fruition  find. 

Hasten,  then,  thy  consecration, 

Bring  thine  offering  complete, 
Lay  thyself  in  loving  meekness 

At  thy  Saviour's  pierced  feet. 
Let  Him  make  and  let  Him  mould  thee, 

Let  Him  keep  thee  near  His  side, 
While  His  heart  of  love  rejoiceth 

And  His  soul  is  satisfied. 


COMPENSATION 

(California   Hills) 

Relentless  flames  o'erswept  the  sun-dried  hills, 

Devouring  every  trace  of  flower  and  blade, 

Till  scarred  and  black,  they  seemed  to  shrink  dismayed 

From  light  of  day,  and  happy  songsters'  trills, 

And  shunned  man's  gaze.    But  nature  e'er  fulfils 

Her  deathless  trust,  and  these  are  first  arrayed 

In  living  green,  when  showers  long  delayed, 

Wake  life  and  rapture  in  the  fields  and  rills. 

Rejoice  then,  O  my  heart,  at  God's  great  plan 

Of  compensating  grace  to  fallen  man; 

Where  sorrow's  fires  had  left  their  scourge  and  scar 

Upon  the  soul  to  devastate  and  mar, 

Self  thus  destroyed  shall  help  God's  peace  to  bring, 

And  Heaven's  rain  cause  fadeless  bloom  to  spring. 


16 


THE  ANGELS'  MESSAGE 

"Peace  on  earth" — how  strange  the  message! 

Listen  to  the  sound  of  war, 
To  the  noise  of  strife  and  conflict, 
To  the  struggle  evermore. 

Do  you  wonder,  weeping  Christian, 
Why  the  message  seems  in  vain? 

Why  the  gladsome  Christmas  chorus 
Leaves  on  earth  so  much  of  pain? 

"Peace  on  earth" — 0  doubting  spirit, 

Let  your  sad  forebodings  cease; 
Jesus  is  the  Overcomer, 

Jesus  is  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

Though  we  see  not  all  things  conquered, 
Yet  our  faith  crowns  Jesus  now, 

And  His  reign  shall  ne'er  be  over 
Till  each  enemy  shall  bow. 

Then  the  tide  of  Christmas  blessing 
Shall  prevail  the  world  around, 

And  the  glory  of  Christ's  kingdom 
Shall  forevermore  be  found. 

"Peace  on  earth" — how  sweet  the  message 

To  the  saddened,  sorrowing  earth! 
Strife  and  tumult  soon  must  vanish, 
Joy  and  victory  have  their  birth. 

Sweet  and  sweeter  grows  the  chorus! 
Listen,  then  0  weary  soul, 


THE  ANGELS'  MESSAGE 

Till  it  penetrates  thy  darkness, 
Fills  with  light,  and  makes  thee  whole. 

To  each  heart  that  takes  the  message, 

Even  now  its  strife  is  o'er, 
And  it  hears  the  angels'  music 

Swelling  clearer  evermore. 

18 


THE  LAW  OF  GIVING 

What  things  so  e'er  ye  mete  ye  shall  receive; 
This  law  stands  fast,  a  verdict  from  the  skies. 
If  love  and  pity,  sacrifice  arise 
Within  your  breast,  and  cause  you  to  relieve 
With  lavish  hand  your  brother,  then  believe 
That  God's  own  constant,  flowing,  rich  supplies 
Shall  fill  your  life,  and  with  a  glad  surprise 
His  very  nature,  Love,  ye  will  perceive. 

For  God  withholdeth  not,  but  all  bestows, 
From  blazing  sun  and  star  to  silent  dew, 
In  seed  of  springtime,  and  in  harvest  hoard, 
In  song  and  fragrance,  in  each  wind  that  blows, 
God  pours  Himself — reveals  Himself  anew: 
And  gives  His  very  life  in  Christ  our  Lord. 


TAKE  ME,  BREAK  ME,  MAKE  ME 

TAKE  ME,  O  Lord,  for  I  am  but  the  clay 

That  lies  unused  upon  a  dusty  shelf; 
I  cannot  move  to  meet  Thy  blessed  hand, 

So  weak  am  I,  and  powerless  in  myself; 
I  can  but  cry  for  Thee  with  helpless  moan, 

And  ask  Thee  so  to  work  upon  my  soul 
That  I  shall  let  my  painful  struggles  cease 

And  yield  my  hapless  life  to  Thy  control. 

BREAK  ME,  O  Lord,  for  hard  hath  grown  the  clay, 

Until  no  pliability  remains; 
Let  Thine  own  fingers  crumble  me  to  dust, 

Till  naught  of  former  shape  the  clay  retains. 
The  vessel  on  the  wheel  was  sadly  marred, 

Some  trace  of  self -life  spoiled  the  Potter's  art; 
Then  sift  the  scattered  dust  with  searching  eye, 

And  satisfy  my  broken,  contrite  heart. 

MAKE  ME,  0  Lord,  with  Thine  own  bleeding  hands, 

And  streams  of  grace  will  moisten  and  unite 
The  broken  dust  again  to  yielding  clay, 

No  more  to  struggle,  and  resist  Thy  might. 
Then  take,  and  break,  and  make,  until,  so  formed, 

The  Heavenly  Potter  calls  His  work  complete, 
And  in  His  image  fair  hath  fashioned  me, 

A  vessel  for  the  Master's  use  made  meet. 

20 


VESSELS  OF  MERCY 

Rom.  9:23 

Vessels,   frail   and   earthen, 

Full  of  grace  Divine; 
Lord  of  life  and  glory 

What  a  love  is  Thine! 
In  my  utter  darkness 

Thou  hast  deigned  to  shine. 

If  I  had  one  merit 

Mercy  could  not  flow, — 

Favor  not  deserving 
Boldly  I  may  go, 

Fulness  of  Thy  mercy 
Thus  to  surely  know. 

Poor,  despised,  yea,  nothing, 
What  have  I  to  claim? 

All  the  wealth  of  Heaven 
Mine  in  Jesus'  Name, 

And  the  blessed  reason 
Is  my  very  shame. 

Emptied  of  earth's  glory 
And  my  own  poor  thought, 

Gone  the  sad,  long  struggle, 
That  which  self  had  wrought; 

Mine  for  soul  and  body, 
All  the  blood  hath  bought. 


THE  VOICE  OF  THE  SEA 

I  stretch  me  on  the  warm,  grey  sand 

And  hearken  to  the  Sea; 

It  has  its  mission  vast,  sublime, 

And  yet  it  talks  to  me. 

The  Psalm  of  Life  is  all  expressed 

By  notes  of  joy  and  grief, 

And  never  does  the  throbbing   Sea 

Find  aught  but  short  relief. 

An  organ  played  by  Master  hand, 

All  tremulous  with  sound, 

While  vibrate   all  the  highest  keys 

As  full  tides  reach  their  bound. 

A  prelude  first  of  lighter  touch 

With  minor  undertone, 

Then  thunder  crash  of  awful  power, 

Half  song  and  half  a  groan. 

Flow  on,  flow  on,  or  ebb  away; 

Thy  voice  is  pain  and  love, 

First  moaning  like  a  wounded  thing, 

Then   cooing  like  a   dove. 

It  sings  once  more  in  accents  gay, 

And  then  it  sobs  again, 

And  never  is  there  note  of  joy 

Without  a  voice  of  pain. 

And  sometimes  tones  both  sweet  and  rare, 

Like   Mother's   tender   call, 

So   soft  I  lose  myself  in  rest, 

And  hear  God's  voice  in  all. 

22 


AUTUMNAL  MEMORIES 

My  thoughts  are  strangely  roving 

Through  the  past; 
They  flit  in  restless  eddies 

Whirling  fast, 
While  dying  leaves  are  rushing 

At  my  feet, 
To  meet  the  surging  memories 

Passing  sweet. 

I  breathe  the  spicy  odor 

Of  a  day, 
When  fragrant,  cool  October 

Breezes  play; 
I  see  in  glowing  vision 

Gorgeous  trees, 
That  flaunt  their  crimson  glory 

In  the  breeze. 

The  wind,  a  ringing  laughter 

Bears  to  me ; 
I  see  a  group  of  children 

'Neath  the  tree ; 
I  hush  my  heart  to  listen, 

With  a  pain, 
To  catch  the  bitter  pleasure 

I  may  gain. 

I  watch  the  airy  footsteps 

One  by  one, 
Trip  light,  fantastic  circles 

In  their  fun, 


AUTUMNAL  MEMORIES 

And  hear  the  quick  vibration, 

Strangely  sweet, 
The  snapping,  crispy  crackle 

'Neath  their  feet. 

Then  withered  leaves  are  gathered 

In  a  heap. 
I  see  the  bonfire's  blazes 

Quickly  leap; 
The  children's  chilly  fingers 

Seek  the  glow, 
While  'round  the  smoke-wreaths  curling 

Zephyrs  blow. 

I  see  a  roguish  urchin 

Stir  the  mass, 
The  timid  ones  to  frighten 

As  they  pass; — 
I  view  the  dying  embers 

Slowly  pale; 
Not  all  the  kindly  zephyrs 

Now  avail. 

I  turn  me  to  the  outlook 

Of  today; 
Those  children  of  my  vision, 

Where  are  they? 
Some  gone  beyond  the  fading 

Of  the  leaves; 
While  others  wait  the  binding 

Of  their  sheaves. 

24 


THE  DAY  OF  DAYS 

Sweet  Day  of  Grace, 
When  Love  devised  a  way  for  Mercy's  flow, 

And  Christ  the  Lord 
Laid  down  His  glory  for  a  Cross  below. 

Sweet  Day  of  Bliss, 
When  Love  transcending  shone  o'er  all  the  earth, 

And  Heaven's  King 
Forsook  His  Throne  to  know  a  Manger  birth. 

Sweet  Day  of  Peace, 
When  to  the  saddened  world,  all  sin-defiled, 

The  Father  bent, 
And  sent  out  from  His  heart  the  Holy  child. 

Sweet  Day  of  Song, 
When  angels  tuned  their  harps  to  highest  praise; 

"Good  will  to  men," 
And  with  their  gladness  crowned  the  Day  of  Days. 

25 


THE  SEA  AND  THE  SHELL 

When  first  I  heard  the  summer  sea, 

'Twas  prisoned  within  a  shell, 
Held  by  my  mother's  hand  to  my  ear, 
And  the  song  was  soft,  and  sweet  and  clear; 

While  my  childish  fancy  loved  to  dwell 
On  the  waves  that  were  speaking  to  me. 

When  next  I  heard  the  summer  sea, 

Afar  on  a  lonely  shore, 
I  saw  the  great  Ocean  flow  and  swell, 
Within  its  depths  was  the  fragile  shell, 

And  its  tides  rolled  on  forevermore; 
Still  the  billows  were  singing  to  me. 

When  first  I  felt  Eternity, 

Soft  beating  within  my  soul, 
'Twas  hid  in  the  tiny  shell  of  my  life, 
Where  Christ's  tender  voice  had  stilled  all  strife, 

And  as  I  heard  His  deep  love-tides  roll, 
Their  sweet  music  was  wakened  in  me. 

At  last  I  viewed  humanity, 

With  its  crying  need  of  love, 
And  as  my  hand  reached  quickly  to  save, 
I  knew  that  a  mighty  Ocean  wave 

Of  love  Divine  from  Heaven  above, 
Had  borne  out  my  shell  to  the  sea. 


THE  CHANGING  HILLS  OF  CALIFORNIA 

The  blue-green  hills,  the  Winter  hills, 
With  life,  and  strength  and  cheer, 

Refreshing  showers,  and  first  wild  bloom, 
And  air  perfumed  and  clear. 

And  yet  the  days  more  gorgeous  grow, 

And  far  off  mountains  topped  with  snow 

Reflect  the  brilliant  after-glow: 
'Tis  bliss  to  sojourn  here! 

The  gold-green  hills,  the  Springtime  hills, 

With  poppies  all  ablaze, 
With  wealth  of  verdure,  cress  and  flower, 

And  meek-eyed  cows  that  graze: 
And  live-oak  trees  that  never  fade, 
Festooned  with  lace,  throw  kindly  shade 
O'er  primrose  bright,  and  grassy  blade: 

O  sweet  and  dreamy  days! 

The  yellow  hills,  the  Summer  hills, 

By  golden  sun  caressed, 
While  soft,  long  shadows  come  and  go, 

And  all  is  peace  and  rest: 
The  happy  children  sing  and  play, 
And  odors  sweet  of  new-mown  hay 
Are  borne  by  care-free  winds  away: 

What  days  can  be  more  blest! 

27 


THE  CHANGING  HILLS  OF  CALIFORNIA 

The  sun-browned  hills,  the  Autumn  hills, 

Grown  parched,  and  half  forlorn, 
Yet  changing  leaf  and  purple  grape 

Thy  patient  brow  adorn; 
No  rain  yet  laves  thine  up-turned  face, 
But  when  God  gives  this  hoped-for  grace, 
The  scars  severe  shall  leave  no  trace, — 
Thou  shall  be  newly  born. 

O  dimpled  hills,  O  darling  hills, 

At  every  season  fair! 
Thy  faithful  lover  I  will  be, 

And  sing  thy  praises  rare; 
In  dress  of  green,  or  gold  or  tan, 

Or  even  sober  brown, 
Thou  satisfiest  my  fond  heart, 

With  every  change  of  gown: 
And  as  I  keep  my  sacred  tryst, 
Like  bashful  maiden  slyly  kissed, 
Thou  drawest  down  thy  veil  of  mist, 

With  coy  attempt  to  frown. 


THE  BREATH  OF  MORN 

0  breath  of  morn,  whose  wine  of  rare  delight 

1  drink  from  sunlit  chalice,  golden  bright, 
Thy  sweetness  fills  each  inch  of  dewy  sod, 
Thy  perfume  dwellest  in  the  fresh-turned  clod, 
Thou  fillest  roses  red,  and  lilies  white. 

Each  bright-winged  bird  that  takes  his  sudden  flight, 
With  song  of  joy  to  revel  in  the  light, 
Knows  freedom  new  from  this  rich  gift  of  God, 
O  breath  of  morn! 

From  far-off  mountains  that  arise  in  might, 
From  spicy  trees  that  grow  upon  the  height, 
From  fragrant  hills  where  slender  grasses  nod, 
From  lowly  plains  where  blooms  the  golden  rod, 
Thou  comest  with  the  passing  of  the  night, 
O  breath  of  morn! 

29 


AS  THY  DAYS 

'As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be."— Deut.  33:25. 

Do  thy  weary  footsteps  falter, 

Does  the  path  seem  steep  and  hard, 

Dost  thou  long  to  drop  the  crosses, 
And  fly  Home  to  thy  reward? 

Lift  thy  heart  in  holy  courage, 
Let  thy  faith  the  promise  see, 

For  His  good  word  never  faileth: 
"As  thy  days  thy  strength  shall  be." 

Weak  and  faint,  does  life  seem  ebbing, 
Does  all  hope  of  vict'ry  flee? 

Fear  not,  O  beloved  toiler, 

"As  thy  days  thy  strength  shall  be." 

Does  the  mountain  path  grow  rougher? 

Still  the  Lord  hath  need  of  thee; 
He  hath  trod  the  steeps  of  Calvary: 

"As  thy  days  thy  strength  shall  be." 

Does  the  tempest  beat  more  fiercely? 

Still  shall  stand  His  blest  decree, 
All  the  waves  shall  not  o'erwhelm  thee ; 

"As  thy  days  thy  strength  shall  be." 

Hush  thy  heart  in  sweet  abiding, 
Let  all  doubt  and  sorrow  flee; 

Sink  to  rest  upon  His  bosom, 

All  His  strength  shall  be  for  thee. 


AMONG  THE  LILIES 


"My  Beloved  is   gone  down  into   His   garden.  ...  to   gather 
lilies.      He    feedeth    among    the    lilies."— Song  of  Sol.  6:2,  3. 

Blow,  ye  winds  of  pain  and  sorrow; 

Blow,  ye  zephyrs  soft  with  peace; 
Blow  upon  my  lily  garden, 

That  its  perfume  may  not  cease. 

Breathe  of  fragrance  sweet  as  Heaven, 
Float  it  to  my  soul's  Adored, 

Till  His  fair  hands  haste  to  gather 
All  the  sweetness  for  Him  stored. 

Reck  I  not  if  rain  or  sunshine, 
Storm  or  calm  my  garden  knows, 

If  the  sweetness  of  its  spices 
Only  forth  for  Jesus  flows. 

Once  within  this  lily  garden 

Only  thorns  would  make  their  bed, 

Thorns  as  cruel  as  once  woven 

For  the  Saviour's  meek-bowed  head. 

Mystery  divine  and  lovely! 

He  hath  changed  both  soil  and  seed, 
And  among  His  own  fair  lilies 

My  Beloved  comes  to  feed. 

I  "consider"  these  fair  lilies, 

How  they  grow,  how  sweet  they  bloom, 
Fresh  from  Jesus'  spotless  spirit — 

Blest  my  heart  to  give  them  room. 

31 


AMONG  THE  LILIES 

These  are  lilies  of  the  valley, 

Grown  within  the  shade  of  death, 

Raised  to  resurrection  beauty 
By  the  Spirit's  vital  breath. 

All  "inclosed"  my  lily  garden, 
But  to  One  its  bloom  revealed, 

And  within  its  deepest  recess 

Springs  a  living  fountain  "sealed." 

Flows  this  Spring  of  life  from  Jesus, 
Back  to  Him  its  streams  must  go, 

And  the  lilies  owe  their  freshness 
To  the  Fountain's  constant  flow. 

Jesus,  "Altogether  lovely," 
Spotless  Lily  of  my  heart, 

Grow  within  my  life  forever, 
I  am  Thine,  and  mine  Thou  art. 

32 


A  BROKEN  HEART 

Psalm  51:17 

A  broken  heart  I  bring, 
A  priceless  thing, 

For  it  has  cost  me  all. 

See,  Lord,  the  sacrifice  Thou  hast  required; 
I    yield    Thee    everything    that    self    desired, 

And  follow  at  Thy  call. 

A   bleeding   heart   I   bring, 
A  useless  thing 

To  human  sense  or  sight, 
But  Thou  Who  bindest  up  the  broken  heart, 
Withdrawing  by  Thy  hand  sin's  poison  dart, 

Wilt  use  it  by  Thy  might. 

I  ponder  and  ask  why 
My  heart  must  die, 

Ere  it  may  upward  press; 

Why  naught  but  broken  heart  will  Thee  suffice, 
I  listen,  and  the  God  of  love  replies 

"Thy  Saviour  gave  no  less." 


MY  SPIKENARD 

I  had  a  tiny  box,  a  precious  box 

Of  human  love, — my  spikenard  of  great  price: 

I  kept  it  close  within  my  heart  of  hearts 

And  scarce  would  lift  the  lid  lest  it  should  waste 

Its  perfume  on  the  air.    One  day  a  strange 

Deep  sorrow  came  with  crushing  weight,  and  fell 

Upon  my  costly   treasure,   sweet   and  rare, 

And  brake  the  box  to  atoms.    All  my  heart 

Rose  in  dismay  and  sorrow  at  this  waste, 

But  as  I  mourned,  behold  a  miracle 

Of  grace  Divine.    My  human  love  was  changed 

To  Heaven's  own,  and  poured  in  healing  streams 

On  other  broken  hearts,  while  soft  and  clear 

A  voice  above  me  whispered,  "Child  of  Mine, 

With  comfort  wherewith  thou  art  comforted, 

From  this  time  forth,  go  comfort  other  lives, 

And  thou  shalt  know  blest  fellowship  with  Me 

Whose  broken  heart  of  love  hath  healed  the  world.' 

34 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 
In  Memoriam 

Written  by   request   for  the   "Lincoln   Birthday   Association," 
Buffalo,   N.   Y.,   February   12,   1876 

(Composed  at  the  age  of  seventeen) 

3h,  hail,  with  rejoicing  and  honor,  the  light  of  that  day, 
Which  bore  us  a  sovereign  hero  the  nation  to  sway; 
A  strong,  daring  soul  for  our  country,  to  wipe  out  its  stains; 
The  rights  of  his  people  were  holy,  he  sundered  their  chains. 
Through  tides  of  tumultuous  discord  he  held  his  command, 
The  throbs  of  that  noble  heart  beating  were  felt  o'er  the  land. 
He  planted  his  foot  on  enslavement  and  ground  it  to  dust, 
He  wrested  the  power  from  oppressors,  left  fetters  to  rust; 
(Through  surges  of  wild  opposition  he  weathered  the  storm, 
And  faced  with  unwavering  courage  his  charge  to  perform. 
jNo  chaplets  of  laurel  were  needed  for  crowning  his  life, 
jSublimely  at  last,  as  he  lived  it,  he  finished  the  strife; 
A  martyr,  indeed,  for  his  country,  earth's  honors  were  vain; 
A  crown  of  the  glory  immortal  his  permanent  gain. 
Though  lowly  our  loftiest  homage  that  name  to  enshrine, 
jit  e'er  in  the  hearts  of  his  people  in  splendor  shall  shine. 
|  The  souls  of  those  destitute  freedmen  in  loyalty  hold 
A  monument  stronger  than  granite,  more  precious  than  gold ; 
'Twas  reared  on  a  life  of  endurance,  the  workman  was  Love; 
The  warden  to  guard  and  preserve  it  an  angel  above: 
The  key  to  this  glorious  structure  that  dear  cherished  name, 
Inscribed  with  the  blood  of  his  death-wound  in  letters  of  fame: 
And  storms  cannot  crumble  this  pillar  or  cause  it  to  rust, 
No  changes  of  time  can  obscure  it,  or  print  it  with  dust; 
The  blocks  in  this  column  of  glory  are  cut  from  the  heart, 
Cemented  with  grateful  affection  they  never  can  part. 


35 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN 

Thus  planted  on  solid  foundation,  the  strength  of  the  years, 
And  hallowed  by  rare  consecration  with  agonized  tears, 
Though  lost  to  the  life  of  the  listless,  this  cenotaph  grand 
Still  looms  in  its  majesty  endless,  a  work  of  God's  hand. 
Unbound  from  their  fetters,  those  freedmen  shall  strike  for  a  goal 
That  pride,  which  true  liberty  wakens,  ennobles  the  soul, 
His  mem'ry  a  help  to  advancement,  a  light  to  their  eyes, 
That  race  to  the  height  of  true  manhood  shall  steadily  rise ; 
And  each  lofty  deed  or  attainment  achieved  by  their  hand, 
Shall  seek  for  its  first  inspiration  that  name  of  command. 

36 


THE  SNOWDROP 

O  brave,  fair  flower,  my  snowdrop  sweet, 
The  spring  and  winter  meet. 

Thy  gleaming  wings  are  blossomed  snow, 

But  in  the  dainty  bell  below, 

The  springtide's  tender  green  doth  glow, 

0  darling  flower  of  snow  and  verdure! 

1  bend  my  head  a  little  space; 
Breathe  softly  in  my  face; 

Thy  tender,  curving  lips  unclose; 
I  drink  the  breath  of  scented  snows, 
And  in  deliciousness  repose, 
O  darling  flower  of  snow  and  verdure. 

Thou  art  the  winter's  sweet  reply 

To  our  half-glad  good-bye; 

But  underneath  thy  snowy  wing 
We    spy  a   messenger   of   spring, 
With  promise  of  more  blossoming, 

Thou  darling  flower  of  snow  and  verdure. 

O  may  our  lives  like  thee  unfold, 

Sweet  blossom  of  the  cold! 

May    we    rise    bravely    to    endure, 
And  be  as   spotless,  fair  and  pure, 
With  promise  of  a  springtide  sure, 

Where   fairer    flowers    shall   bloom   forever. 

37 


TRUE  GREATNESS 

Wilt  pay  the  price  of  greatness,  child  of  God? 
Wilt  listen  to  the  truth  the  Master  taught 
When  His  disciples  high  position  sought? 
Then  seek  to  know  the  lowly  path  He  trod. 
Though  Lord  of  all,  He  looked  on  earth  abroad 
And  found  no  place  to  lay  His  head;  so  fraught 
His  life  with  loss.    In  sacrifice  He  wrought 
Then  found  the  Cross;  the  Man  beneath  God's  rod. 

Thus  be  thou  great  by  being  but  the  least 
And  like  the  perfect  Servant,  tire  thou  not 
Of  serving  all.     No  name  or  place  thine  own, 
From  selfish  care  thou  art  for  aye  released, 
And  by  thy  Saviour's  blood  a  bond-slave  bought, 
Love's  greatness  shall  in  thee  be  fully  known. 

38 


BLEST  CHRISTMAS  MORN 

Blest  Christmas  morn,  thou  comest,  as  of  yore, 
To  cheer  with  songs  that  echo  o'er  and  o'er; 
Thou  bringest  Bethlehem's  sweet  Babe  again, 
To  heal  and  comfort  hearts  nigh  crushed  with  pain: 
We  kneel  as  eastern  magi  knelt  before. 

With  myrrh  and  gold  and  incense, — love's  sweet  store, 
In  faith  our  treasures  at  His  feet  we  pour, 
Who  comes  in  peace  o'er  loyal  hearts  to  reign; 
Blest  Christmas  morn! 

Thy  message  of  glad  tidings  rings  once  more, 
Good  will  on  earth  Christ  cometh  to  restore; 
We  fain  would  join  the  angels'  blessed  strain, 
That  swells  in  joy  o'er  mountain,  hill  and  plain, 
With  lowly  hearts  that  worship  and  adore; 
Blest  Christmas  morn! 

39 


THE  SMITTEN  ROCK 

Ex.  17:6;  Num.  20:8. 

See  the  riven  side  of  Jesus, 

Watch  the  stream  of  molten  love! 
See  the  crimson  tide  of  mercy 

Flow  from  Calvary's  Mount  above; 
How  it  pours  itself  most  gladly 

At  the  cruel  sabre's  blow, 
As  it  speaks,  in  thrilling  accents: 

"This  shall  cleanse  thee  white  as  snow.* 

Once  the  Living  Rock  was  smitten, 

Never  need  to  pierce  it  more; 
Speak  in  faith's  most  gentle  whisper, 

And  the  streams  of  life  will  pour. 
Unbelief  afresh  would  wound  Thee, 

O  Thou  gracious  Son  of  God! 
But  the  trust  which  gains  the  blessing, 

Never  more  may  lift  the  rod. 

40 


PRIMEVAL  REDWOODS 

(Composed   at  Elim   Grove,   Cazadero   Redwoods,   California) 

Ye  oracles  of  God !     Full  well  ye  preach 
Your  weighty  sermons,  eloquent  and  wise; 
In  strong,  unuttered  words,  in  forceful  speech. 
Your  thrilling  presence  masters  all  my  soul. 
Aspiring  by  your  towering  height  to  reach 
That  Heaven  of  which  ye  breathe,  ye  lift  your  heads 
On  high,  among  the  sunlit  clouds,  and  hear 
The  angels'  whispered  messages  to  men. 
Your  slow,  sure  growth  of  centuries  shows  forth 
That  holy  patience  that  inspires  the  soul 
When  fully  taught  of  God.    Your  upright  trend, 
And  straight,  undeviating  forms  shame  all 
Who  fail  to  show  integrity  of  life. 
Like  priests,  or  prophets,  garbed  in  garments  rough, 
In  solemn  state  ye  watch  between  two  worlds, 
And  offer  incense  from  your  waving  boughs. 
Like  sages,  at  whose  feet  aspiring  souls 
Close  gather  for  their  meed  of  sacred  lore, 
New  trees  like  young  disciples  circle  round 
And  drink  in  reverence  your  counsels  deep. 
You  wear  your  many  crowns  of  fadeless  green, 
Majestic  and  serene,  the  forest  kings, 
The  undisputed  monarchs  of  the  wild. 
41 


PRIMEVAL  REDWOODS 

O  mighty  trees,  by  God's  own  Word  ye  live, 
And  are  upheld  by  that  same  Word  of  power. 
He  spake,  and  it  was  done,  and  from  His  mouth 
The  edict  issued,  "All  things  shall  stand  fast;" 
And  though  the  blight  of  sin,  and  sense  of  death 
Touched  all  Creation,  Christ  the  Lord  of  light 
Bent  low  in  death  to  make  all  things  alive 
And  reconciled  once  more  unto  His  will. 
When  that  blest  morning  comes,  and  sons  of  God 
Are  manifested  forth  in  light  supreme, 
Eternal  and  Divine,  your  hoary  forms 
Which  span  the  ages,  still  shall  stand  as  signs 
And  monuments  of  truth  and  power  sublime, 
And  in  Millennial  splendor  worship  low 
At  His  blest  feet,  Who  wears  Redemption's  crown. 
With  mission  new  in  God's  restored,  new  earth, 
Ye  still  shall  rear  your  heads,  and  join  the  song 
Which  morning  stars  voiced  on  Creation's  day, 
And  which  shall  burst  afresh  in  wondrous  joy, 
To  Him  Who  comes  and  claims  His  right  to  reign. 


THE  DOVE  OF  PEACE 


"And  He  saw  the  Spirit  of  God  descending  like 
a    Dove    and   lighting    upon    Him." — Matt.  3:16. 


In  all  the  weary  waste 

Of  sin  and  human  woe, 
The  sacred  Dove  of  Heaven 

Knew  nowhere  else  to  go; 
His  one  celestial  rest 

In  earth's  void,  sad  and  dim, 
Was  God's  sweet  Son  from  Heaven, 

He  lighted  upon  Him. 

He  winged  His  flight  from  Heaven 

As  once  the  dove  of  old 
Flew  forth  o'er  waters  wild 

And  left  the  one  safe  fold; 
The  sweet  Dove  only  saw 

A  world  of  water  dark, 
Until  no  rest  in  sight, 

He  sought  again  the  Ark. 

We  crave  the  Dove  from  Heaven, 

To  make  us  truly  blest, 
We  ask  Him  to  come  in 

And  make  our  heart  His  nest, 
But  only  when  our  Lord 

Within  is  glorified 
Can  He  thus  stay  His  flight 

And  joyfully  abide. 


THE  DOVE  OF  PEACE 

Then  lo,  the  Father's  voice, 

That  breaks  the  sacred  calm, 
"This  is  my  well-beloved  Son 

Who  sheds  forth  Heaven's  balm, 
The  blessed  Dove  of  Peace 

Has  found  again  His  rest, 
And  while  the  Christ  abides 

Thy  heart  shall  be  His  nest." 

Then  welcome,  blessed  Dove, 

Thrice  welcome  to  my  soul, 
What  though  the  strife  of  sin 

Shall  all  around  me  roll? 
The  blessed,  wounded  Lamb 

Doth  all  His  peace  impart, 
And  resting  upon  Christ 

The  Dove  sings  in  my  heart. 

Thou  blessed  Father,  God, 

O  Jesus,  Saviour,  Friend, 
O  Holy  Ghost  from  Heaven, 

Who  loves  thus  to  descend, 
May  all  Thy  people  haste 

This  blest  Guest  to  invite 
For  only  upon  Christ 

Can  Heaven's  Dove  alight. 


"THE  APPLE  OF  HIS  EYE" 

'Keep  me  as  the  apple  of  the  eye." — Ps.  17:8. 

'He  that  toucheth  you  toucheth  the  apple  of  His  eye." — Zech.  2:8. 

'He  kept  him  as  the  apple  of  His  eye."— Deut.  32:10. 

Am  I,  Lord,  so  dear  to  Thee? 
He  harms  Thee  who  toucheth  me; 
Every  grief  that  hurts  my  heart 
Reaches  Thee  with  stinging  dart. 

Sensitive  my  eye  to  pain, 
Quiv'ring  sore  thro'  nerve  and  brain, 
But  more  keen  the  pain  to  Thee 
When  a  sorrow  toucheth  me. 

Like  the  apple  of  Thine  eye! 
In  Thy  love  thus  let  me  lie; 
What  can  harm  Thy  little  child, 
Though  oppressed,  abused,  reviled? 

Let  me  leap  for  joy  of  heart 
Over  every  sting  and  smart; 
Not  an  ill  can  come  to  me 
Which  has  not  come  first  to  Thee. 

Fill  me  with  this  thought  of  grace 
As  I  gaze  on  Thy  dear  face — 
This  my  comfort  and  my  plea, 
He  harms  Thee  that  harmeth  me. 


45 


THE  SANCTUARY  NEST 

Psalm  84:3 

Only  a  tiny  sparrow,  my  soul  takes  flight  to  Thee; 
To  find  a  place  of  refuge  for  all  Eternity, 

And  this  because  Thou  callest,  "Come  to  Me." 

Only  a  little  swallow,  my  soul  has  found  its  nest, 
Within  Thy  sacred  altars,  a  dwelling  safe  and  blest; 
Here,  folded  to  Thy  bosom,  let  me  rest. 

Safely  within  those  altars  the  bird  "her  young"  may  lay, 
No  harm  can  touch  her  offspring  by  darkest  night  or  day; 
The  Angel  of  the  Presence  keeps  alway. 

Emmanuel's  cross  is  lifted  o'er  altars  blest,  divine, 
My  faith  beneath  its  shadow  sees  this,  the  holy  Sign; 
The  blood  doth  ever  shelter  me  and  mine. 

46 


NO  MORE  TWAIN 

To  My  Husband 

I  love  thee  as  the  floweret  yields  its  honied  dew, 

I  love  thee  as  the  great  sky  wears  unbounded  blue, 

I  love  thee  as  the  sky-lark  pours  its  burst  of  song, 

I  love  thee  in  the  morning,  I  love  thee  all  day  long. 

I  love  thee  all  the  moments,  I  love  thee  every  hour, 

I  love  thee  with  the  fulness  of  Heaven's  poured  forth  power. 

And  not  alone  I  love  thee  because  of  ties  so  fond, 

Because  of  sweet  betrothal  and  parents'  holy  bond, 

But  best  of  all,  my  darling,  because  of  God's  own  Word, 

Which  in  our  inmost  being  our  list'ning  souls  have  heard; 

That  voice  that  speaks  from  Heaven,  and  doth  not  speak  in  vain ; 

Which  says,  "Be  one  forever,  henceforth  ye  are  not  twain." 

His  Word  is  fixed  in  Heaven,  this  is  His  blest  decree, 

Thou  art  with  me  united,  and  I  am  one  with  thee. 

Beyond  all  earthly  loving,  beyond  all  cords  that  twine 

Is  that  which  binds  forever,  the  blessed  love  Divine. 

47 


LOVE  PERFECTED 


"If    we   love    one    another    God    dwelleth    in    us, 
and  His  love  is  perfected  in  us." — /  Jno.  4:12. 


Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

The  love  of  God  within  my  heart  of  hearts 
Calls  out  to  love  Divine  within  thy  breast; 
His  mighty  waves  and  billows  o'er  us  roll, 
And  in  His  love  we  know  His  perfect  rest; 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 
Still  deeper,  deeper  yet,  we  sink  in  God, 
And  sinking  into  Him  we  sink  in  Love. 
Who  dwells  in  Love,  dwells  also  in  his  God, 
And  knowing  Him  we  know  His  Heaven  above; 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 
So  deep  we  sink,  our  souls  are  overflowed 
By  fulness  of  His  love  beyond  our  ken. 
We    feel   the   throbbings    of   that   Heart    Divine 
Which  broke  in  love  upon  the  hearts  of  men; 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 
In  "loving  one  another"  Love  Divine 
Doth  make  the  mystery  of  love  replete; 
His  perfect  love  revealed  within  our  hearts, 
A  trinity  of  love  doth  rise  complete. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep. 


FULL  TIDES 

Soft,  shifting  sand,  I  find  repose 

Upon  thy  kindly  bed, 
The  drifts  of  sea-weed  at  my  feet 

Their  soothing  fragrance  shed. 

In  line  of  grey,  and  shadow  soft, 

The  sky  and  water  kiss, 
The  lifted  wave  and  jeweled  spray 

Bear  up  my  soul  in  bliss. 

The  day  is  fair,  the  day  is  free, 

In  circles  flies  the  gull, 
With  tender  monotone  of  song 

The  tide  flows,  soft  and  full. 

The  massive  cliffs,  with  fret  of  time, 
Are  outlined  in  their  strength, 

But  o'er  their  feet,  in  untamed  floods, 
The  high  tides  rise  at  length. 

Within  my  breast  the   billows  roll 

That  seek  the  shore  to  win, 
For  hearts  are  strong  with  purpose  great 

When  love's  full  tide  sets  in. 

Flow  soft  and  free,  flow  full   and   deep, 

O  tide  of  deathless  love, 
Break  o'er  my  soul  in  largest  sweep, 

And  all  its  prowess  prove. 

49 


HIS  OWN  ELECT 

Luke  18:7,  8. 

'His  own  elect,"  which  plead  both  day  and  night; 
Is  this  the  mark  of  being  all  His  own, 
When  constant  cries  and  tears  besiege  His  Throne; 
Is  suffering  the  strange  and  blood-bought  right 
Which  sees  through  darkness,  Heaven's  prospect  bright? 
Then  let  me  breathe  a  song  with  every  moan, 
And  know  I  do  not  walk  this  path  alone; 
For  my  blest  Lord  in  sorrow  scaled  this  height. 

And  shall  He  not  "avenge,"  though  He  "bear  long," 

Till  dross  of  unbelief  is  purged  with  fire; 

Till  every  longing  soul  has  proven  true, 

And  prayer  has  turned  to  praise,  and  sighs  to  song? 

Yea,  He  shall  work  when  gone  is  earth's  desire, 

And  Heaven's  glory  brings  faith's  vision  new. 

50 


PRAISE  AT  MIDNIGHT 


"And  at  midnight  Paul  and  Silas  prayed  and  sang  praises  unto  God : 
and  the  prisoners  heard  them.  And  suddenly  there  was  a  great  earth 
quake,  so  that  the  foundations  of  the  prison  were  shaken;  and  immedi 
ately  all  the  doors  were  opened,  and  everyone's  bands  were  loosed." 

— Acts  16:25,  26. 


The  darkness  still  is  deep'ning, 

O  tried  and  weary  heart, 
No  rift  of  morning  brightness 

Bids  midnight  gloom  depart; 
The  prison  walls  surround  thee, 

No  human  help  is  nigh, 
But  blest  is  the  assurance 

Thy  Saviour  reigns  on  high. 

When  shadowed  in  the  darkness, 

And  pressed  by  every  foe, 
Then  let  your  gladdest  carols 

And  sweetest  anthems  flow; 
The  praise  so  sweet  to  Jesus, 

The  "sacrifice  of  praise," 
Is  when  no  earthly  sunshine 

Pours  forth  its  cheering  rays. 

'Tis  then  your  song  is  wafted 

All  human  heights  above, 
And  mingles  with  the  angels' 

In  realms  of  perfect  love; 
'Tis  then  the  God  of  glory 

Makes  Satan  fear  and  flee, 
And  sends  a  mighty  earthquake 

To  set  His  ransomed  free. 

51 


PRAISE  AT  MIDNIGHT 

Tis  easy  when  the  morning 

Appears  at  last  to  view 
To  praise  thy  strong  Redeemer 

Who  burst  the  bondage  through, 
But  'tis  the  praise  at  midnight 

That  gives  the  foe  alarm, 
That  glorifies  thy  Saviour, 

And  bares  His  strong  right  arm. 

A  conqueror  thou  wouldst  be? 

Yea,  more  than  conqueror  thou 
If  thou  wilt  shout  in  triumph 

And  claim  the  victory  now; 
The  prison  doors  will  open, 

The  dungeon  gleam  with  light, 
And  sin-chained  souls  around  thee 

Shall  see  Jehovah's  might. 


EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN 

1  Cor.  2:9,  10. 

Earth  trembles  and  cries  with  the  weight  of  her  sorrow; 

"Come  quickly,"  she  calls,  and  her  moans  will  not  cease. 
Lord  Jesus,  Thy  right  now  it  is  to  be  reigning; 

O  come  to  Thy  tried  ones  and  bring  Thy  sweet  peace. 

O,  what  will  it  be  when  He  comes  in  His  beauty, 

What  image  of  earth  shall  now  aid  the  sweet  dream? 

To  what  can  we  liken  the  burst  of  His  glory, 

When  Jesus  shall  come  this  poor  world  to  redeem? 

'Twill  be  like  the  Springtide,  with  breath  of  the  violet, 
Which  brings  the  return  of  the  long  loved  and  lost; 

'Twill  be  like  the  burst  of  the  bloom  on  the  hillside 
When  gone  is  the  sting  of  the  sad  Winter  frost. 

'Twill  be  like  the  perfume  of  grass  after  mowing, 
Or  like  the  bright  rainbow  across  the  dull  sky; 

'Twill  be  like  the  lark  overskimming  the  meadow, 
Or  like  the  brave  flight  of  the  eagle  on  high. 

Perhaps  like  the  tints  of  the  glorious  sunrise, 
Which  quiver  and  glow  in  the  roseate  sky; 

Or  like  the  sweet  peace  of  the  gathering  twilight, 
When  restful  a  moment  tired  human  hands  lie. 

We  catch  a  sweet  hint  in  the  fair,  spotless  lily, 
Which  spreads  to  the  sunlight  its  delicate  form, 

Or  in  the  deep  quiet  that  follows  the  tempest, 
When  gone  are  the  gloom  and  the  crash  of  the  storm. 

53 


EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN 


'Twill  be  like  the  Mother  heart  folding  her  sweet  one, 
Or  like  the  wee  birdlings  asleep  in  their  nest; 

'Twill  be  like  the  million- jeweled  spray  that's  adorning 
With  wonderful  charm  the  white  cataract's  breast. 


Nay,  eye  hath  not  seen  it,  and  ear  hath  not  heard  it, 
Nor  able  the  heart  or  the  brain  to  portray, 

What  waiteth  for  thee  in  the  blaze  of  His  glory, 

What  treasures  are  stored  in  the  bright  realms  of  day. 

For  while  we  seek  beauty  in  earth's  varied  storehouse, 

To  give  us  a  hint  of  eternal  delight, 
'Tis  like  the  sad  eyes  blind  from  birth  with  a  shadow, 

That  seek  to  imagine  the  blest  gift  of  sight. 

Yet  turn  not  away  from  the  vision  of  rapture, 
For  yet  it  may  dawn  on  thine  earth-clouded  eyes. 

The  Spirit  of  God  to  thy  heart  can  reveal  it; 
In  each  loyal  bosom  His  sweet  secret  lies. 

And  no  one  can  utter  this  wisdom  He  giveth, 
For  earth  has  no  language  to  tell  it  abroad; 

Yet  hold  your  heart  close  to  the  heart  of  your  Saviour, 
And  you  shall  know  all  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 


SWEET  LOVE  OF  CHRIST 

Sweet  love  of  Christ  that  stoopeth  to  enfold 

Thy  weary  one;  to  patiently  uphold, 

That  in  no  place  or  time  can  dim  or  fail, 

And  ever  with  Thy  Father  shall  prevail; 

Thou  art  my  shield  from  tempests  rude  and  cold. 

When  seas  of  agony  have  o'er  me  rolled, 
And  all  my  plaint  my  prayer  to  Thee  has  told, 
Thy  saving  grace  has  made  me  cry,  All  Hail! 
Sweet  love  of  Christ. 

And  now  by  faith  I  see  my  name  enrolled 
With  those  Thou  callest  through  the  gates  of  gold, 
While  all  the  lights  of  this  poor  earth  shall  pale, 
Then  vanish  quite  in  glory's  shining  trail, 
And  God's  new  life  shall  over  sweep  the  old; 
Sweet  love  of  Christ. 

55 


DANCING  LEAVES 

Something  in  my  spirit  dances 

With  the  dancing  leaves, 
Something  sets  my  heart  aquiver, 
When  I   feel  their  happy   shiver, 

Something  joys,  yet  grieves. 

Leaves  of  tan  and  gold  and  scarlet, 

They  are  dancing  fast; 
See  their  slender,  clinging  fingers 
Loosen  as  the  autumn  lingers, 

Letting  go  at  last. 

Whirled  by  rough  November  breezes, 

Surely  they  need  rest; 
All  the  little  leaves  are  weary, 
And  they  look  with  wistful  query 

At  the  earth's  kind  breast. 

Take  them  in  thine  arms  of  pity, 

Thou  who  gave  them  birth, 
Fold   each   sorry  little   rover 
Underneath  a  snow-white  cover, 
Loving  Mother  Earth. 

56 


GOD'S  GOOD-NIGHT 

The  hills  grow  grey,  the  shadows  long, 

The  sun  sinks  down  and  down, 
The  mellow  amber  light  remains 

And  floods  the  little  town; 
One  tender  touch  of  blushing  pink, 

A  line  of  heliotrope, 
A  parting  glint  of  burnished  gold 

Adown  the  western  slope. 

O  sunset  hour,  0  twilight  dim, 

What  message  do  you  bring? 
"At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light," 

And  angel  harps  shall  ring; 
The  day  was  sad,  but  day  is  done, 

And  toil  now  has  its  end, 
And  all  the  peace  of  this  sweet  hour 

With  Heaven  seems  to  blend. 

God's  peace  rests  soft  above,  below, 

His  calm  on  hill  and  dale, 
The  baby  moon  peeps  up  her  head 

And  watches  o'er  the  vale; 
The  mountain  now  is  half  asleep, 

The  hills  begin  to  nod, 
One  sweet  white  star  comes  out  to  look, 

And  no  one  wakes  but  God. 

57 


GOD'S  GOOD-NIGHT 

What  see  you,  little  star?  I  ask. 

"A  world  of  sad  alarms, 
But  God  sends  rest  and  tender  peace, 

And  takes  them  in  His  arms. 
And  nature  sings  a  lullaby, 

And  nurses  them  asleep, 
While  high  above  the  lonely  hills 

Love  doth  its  vigils  keep.*' 

The  mountain  sleeps,  the  soft  light  broods, 

The  hills  slip  far  away, 
Hush,  hush  my  soul,  thy  rest  has  come, 

And  Heaven's  calm  has  sway. 
The  love  that  is  so  near  and  true 

Now  holds  thee  to  His  heart, 
And  in  this  vision  of  His  face 

Shall  perfect  peace  impart. 

The  star's  white  candle  still  is  lit, 

The  moon's  asleep,  alas! 
I  hear  the  hum  of  tiny  folk 

That  live  among  the  grass; 
The  katy-did  tunes  all  her  strings, 

While  dies  the  last  faint  light, 
The  soft  winds  rise,  the  angels  sing 

And  breathe  out  God's  good-night. 

58 


CALLED  UP  HIGHER 

In  Memory  of  My  Precious  Mother,  Mrs.  Emily  S.  Judd,  Who  Fell  Asleep 
in  Jesus,  April  7th,  1910.     (Aged  87  Years  and  9  Months.) 

My  fairest  flow'r,  thou  art  transplanted  now 

To  spheres  where  blight  can  never  more  be  known; 

I  cannot  view  thy  fairer  loveliness 

With  God's  own  light  upon  thy  sweet,  calm  brow, 

But  thou  shall  bloom  for  Him  whom  both  our  souls  adore 
And  I  shall  find  thee  once  again  on  Heaven's  shore. 

My  brightest  jewel,  whose  radiance  never  failed 

To  cast  a  beam  of  light  about  my  way, 
Thou  hast  a  brilliance  now  surpassing  far 

The  sweet,  pure  shining  of  thy  earthly  day. 
Shine  on  for  Jesus  then  in  realms  of  His  own  light 

And  I  must  wait  for  thee  till  gone  is  earthly  night. 

My  pure  white  dove,  with  sympathy  so  rare 
That  surely  it  had  found  its  birth  in  Heaven, 

How  strange  seems  earth  with  all  thy  sweet  notes  hushed 
And  ties  cut  loose  which  seemed  could  ne'er  be  riven; 

In  all  life's  griefs  thou  e'er  didst  give  me  cheer 
But  in  my  greatest  grief  thou  art  not  near. 

59 


CALLED  UP  HIGHER 

Heart  of  my  heart,  \vhose  every  beat  seemed  mine, 
Thy  rhythm  of  love  is  stilled  for  earth's  brief  day, 

But  all  in  tune  for  Jesus  still  beats  on 
While  I  have  lost  its  music  from  my  way. 

With  love  perfected  in  His  love  untold 
Shall  be  restored  to  me  that  heart  of  gold. 

Thy  sweet,  fair  hands  which  never  failed  to  bless 
Lie  mutely  folded  on  thy  placid  breast; 

Earth  seems  so  lone  without  their  sweet  caress, — 
My  hands  must  work  the  more  with  thine  at  rest. 

Lord,  clasp  my  hands  still  closer  in  Thine  own 
Because  her  touch  of  love  is  now  unknown. 

I  sorrow  not  as  others  without  hope, 

The  streaks  of  golden  dawn  begin  to  creep; 

The  glorious  Sun  of  Righteousness  shall  rise 
And  kiss  awake  my  loved  one  from  her  sleep; 

His  risen  saints  in  glory  He  shall  bring 
An  death  forevermore  shall  lose  its  sting. 

60 


"WILLOWS  BY  THE  WATER  COURSES" 

Isa.   44:4 

A  willow  by  the  water  brooks, 

My  God,  I  long  to  be, 
That  sends  its  roots  to  Heaven's  stream 

And  drinks  eternally; 
That  takes  no  thought  of  sun  or  drought, 

Himself  my  rich  supply; 
A  life  that  drinks  the  Life  divine, 

All  earthly  streams  passed  by. 

A  willow  yielding  to  my  God 

In  all  I  hope  to  be, 
That  has  no  thought,  or  wish,  or  plan 

But  that  which  comes  from  Thee. 
In  strong  defiance  of  all  sin, 

A  Bashan  oak  I'll  be, 
But  in  my  inner  life  of  love, 

A  willow,  Lord,  toward  Thee. 

And  drinking  thus  by  simple  faith, 

My  soul  is  ever  blest, 
I  know  no  care,  I  know  no  fear, 

Himself  my  perfect  rest; 
The  river  of  my  God  is  full 

To  all  Eternity, 
Since  He  ne'er  fails  and  I  but  trust — 

What  failure  can  there  be? 

And  as  the  roots  reach  deeper  down, 

May  every  branch  abore 
Spread  out,  and  show  Thy  matchless  grace, 

And  never-failing  love. 
Since  Love  Thou  art,  my  soul  shall  drink 

The  same  love,  Lord,  from  Thee, 
And  since  Love  ever  spends  itself, 

Lord,  pour  it  out  through  me. 

61 


SUNSET  GLORY 

'Twixt  me  and  sweet  September's  golden  ball 

The  fringing  willows  lift  their  shafts  of  green; 

The  interlacing  fret  of  leaf  and  twig 

Half  hide,  and  yet  enhance  the  thrilling  scene. 

The  brooklet  murmurs  low  a  soft  good  night, 

The  purple  asters  dress  in  royal  state. 

Some  buttercups  that  Summer  tossed  aside 

In  hasty  leaving,  linger  thus  so  late, 

And  lift  their  eager  faces  in  delight 

To  view  the  strange  fair  glory  of  the  sky, 

And  glance  at  me,  a  wanderer  returned, 

A  stranger  for  an  hour.     Thus,  passing  by, 

I  pause  upon  the  lonely,  winding  turn 

Of  country  road  in  sweet  Wyoming's  glade: 

The  rustic  bridge  still  spans  the  quiet  stream, 

Where  years  ago,  beneath  the  willows'  shade, 

I  found  gay  Holiday,  and  cooled  my  feet, 

And  baited  tiny  fish  on  home-made  hook. 

I  see  again  the  small  brown  eddies  form, 

The  fitful  foam  upon  the  pebbly  brook. 

I  hear  once  more  its  sweet  and  gentle  lay 

That  called  responses  from  my  childish  heart, 

And  find  it  calls  to-night  to  depths  more  deep, 

While  thoughts  of  joy  with  pain  must  share  a  part. 

The  sun  is  sinking  fast;  I  fain  would  call 
Upon  the  brilliant  orb  to  stay  his  flight; 
But  while  I  ponder  how  to  reach  his  ear, 
E'en  now  he  slips  entirely  from  my  sight. 
A  ling'ring  light,  the  glory  of  his  train, 
Suffuses  all  the  gentle  hills  around, 
Yet  tinges  for  a  moment  all  the  vale, 

62 


SUNSET  GLORY 

And  beautifies  the  meanest  bit  of  ground. 

A  haystack,  girded  well  for  winter's  use, 

Is  touched  erstwhile  with  passing  gleam  of  gold: 

The  little  asters  close  their  sleepy  lids, 

And  nestle  closer  to  the  Mother  mould. 

The  fairy  hare-bells  swing  upon  the  breeze, 

I  see  the  rays  of  starry  golden-rod; 

The  clover  has  her  purple  mantle  drawn, 

The  daisies  white  lift  up  their  heads  to  God, 

And  all  the  blue-bells  ring  their  tender  chimes 

And  tell  the  wee,  fair  flow'rs  'tis  time  to  sleep; 

The  leaves  appear  in  gorgeous  evening  dress, 

The  willows  sad  bend  low  their  boughs  to  weep. 

The  memory  of  sunsets  long  ago, 

Like  this  I  see  to-night,  steals  o'er  my  heart 

And  quickens  my  slow  pulse  to  heat  again, 

As  once  it  beat  ere  I  had  known  pain's  dart. 

My  step  is  slower  now,  but  holier  fires 

Than  youth  could  kindle,  glow  within  my  breast, 

And  lift  my  soul  in  adoration  high. 

My  God,  I  see  Thy  smile  in  this  sweet  scene, 

In  crimson  sun  and  tender  after-glow, 

In  rolling  hill  and  distant  pointed  peak, 

In  humblest  grass  or  flow'r  within  the  glen, 

In  every  fringing,  feathery  frond  of  fern 

I  read  the  message  of  Thy  love  to  men: 

God's  speech,  thus  uttered  out  to  all  the  earth, 

And  my  whole  soul,  with  strength  of  gathered  years, 

O'er  which  Thy  hand  of  chastening  has  passed, 

And  brought  Thy  love,  and  calmed  distressful  fears, 

Lifts  up  her  tuneful  lyre  to  Heaven's  King. 

63 


HEART  OF  GOLD 

Dedicated  to  Miss  Sadie  A.   Cody  in  1911 

0  heart  of  gold,  I  know  that  thou  art  true, 
And  I  would  now  my  pledge  of  love  renew; 
For  though  thou  boldest  many  friendships  dear, 
This  truth  is  mine  to  comfort  and  to  cheer, 

No  other  one  is  dearest  unto  you. 

And  though  sometimes  quick  tears  my  cheeks  bedew 
Because  my  faithful  friends  have  proved  so  few, 

1  murmur  not,  because  I  have  thee  near, 

O  heart  of  gold! 

God  grant  we  may  in  His  great  love  look  through 
The  misting  years,  and  all  that  may  ensue, — 
With  faith  in  Him  to  vanquish  every  fear, 
And  make  a  heavenly  rainbow  of  each  tear, 
Till  sealed  eternal  love  beyond  the  blue, 
O  heart  of  gold! 

64 


BEHOLD,  I  MAKE  ALL  THINGS  NEW 

Poor,  weary  heart,  with  all  your  depth  of  sin, 

Dyed  deeper  than  the  crimson  in  its  stain, 
Your  Saviour  waits  to  fashion  it  anew, 

In  His  own  lovely  image  once  again. 
A  new  creation,  whiter  than  the  snow, 

Shall  rise  upon  the  ashes  of  the  old, 
And  blest  indeed  shall  all  thy  New  Year  be 

With  Christ's  own  peace,  and  love  and  joy  untold. 

Thy  murmuring  tongue  no  more  shall  speak  complaint, 

A  Master  hand  shall  all  its  powers  set  free, 
Until  a  silvery  lute  it  shall  become, 

To  praise  the  One  who  lived  and  died  for  thee, 
To  send  a  new  song  swelling  to  the  skies, 

Till  angels  round  the  Throne  shall  catch  the  strain 
And  spread  the  joyful  tidings  all  through  Heaven, 

That  one  of  earth's  lost  souls  is  born  again. 

A  new  commandment  from  your  Lord  and  King, 

With  glad  response  your  willing  heart  revives, 
Since  God  is  love,  His  love  He  bids  us  bring 

And  pour  its  soothing  balm  o'er  troubled  lives; 
And  sweeter  than  the  bounding  beat  of  hope, 

And  greater  than  our  faith,  doth  love  appear, 
Till  all  the  law  of  God  is  thus  fulfilled, 

And  Christ,  in  wondrous  loveliness,  draws  near. 

65 


BEHOLD,  I  MAKE  ALL  THINGS  NEW 

The  place  most  holy,  now  is  manifest, 

The  veil  of  Christ's  humanity  is  riven, 
The  new  and  living  way  of  dying  Love, 

Reveals  to  thee  the  glory  light  of  Heaven; 
And  here  the  pot  of  manna  never  fails, 

The  rod  of  power  doth  bud  and  bloom  with  grace, 
The  smoke  of  incense  mingles  with  thy  prayers, 

The  great  High  Priest  reveals  His  blessed  face. 

And  lo,  by  faith,  the  Day  of  days  appears 

When  this  sad  world  no  more  shall  groan  with  pain, 
When  heaven  and  earth  shall  be  created  new 

And  Christ  as  King  of  kings  shall  come  to  reign. 
Then  every  tear  God's  hand  shall  wipe  away, 

And  grief's  sore  wounds  shall  be  forever  healed, 
And  on  each  loyal  servant  of  the  Lamb, 

Shall  Christ's  new  name  indelibly  be  sealed. 

66 


"MY  CUP  RUNNETH  OVER" 

My  cup  of  God's  blessing  is  filled  to  the  brim, 
Each  fresh-added  drop  makes  it  o'erflow  for  Him; 
At  morning,  at  noonday,  and  midnight  as  well, 
This  outflow  of  blessing  for  Jesus  shall  tell. 

I'll  station  my  cup  'neath  the  fount  of  His  love, 
And  watch  for  the  drops  to  descend  from  above; 
And  though  my  capacity  never  is  great, 
My  cup  shall  run  over  both  early  and  late. 

A  wee  cup  that's  ever  dispersing  abroad, 

Is  better  than  large  cups  that  spare  naught  for  God; 

This  brim-over  fulness  ne'er  taketh  account 

Of  the  size  of  the  vessel  under  the  Fount. 

And  one  blessed  fact  we  need  never  mistake, 
All  those  who  are  near  us  must  surely  partake 
Of  Christ's  blessed  fulness,  which  fills  all  the  heart, 
And  which  He  enables  us  thus  to  impart. 

Dear  souls  who  are  needy,  don't  wait  and  repine, 
Bring  each  empty  vessel  and  set  them  in  line; 
By  faith  keep  them  standing  'neath  God's  great  supply, 
And  though  you  give  freely,  you'll  never  run  dry. 

67 


"I  WILL  NOT  LET  THEE  GO" 

"I  will  not  let  Thee  go,  except  Thou  bless"; 
What  challenge  this,  my  soul,  to  God  on  High? 
What  power  hast  thou  to  keep  thy  Saviour  nigh- 
To  hold  the  fringes  of  His  seamless  dress 
Till  by  His  tender  grace  thou  shalt  confess 
A  name  and  nature  new  from  sun-lit  sky? 
Love  conquered  me,  my  spirit  makes  reply, 
My  weakness  clings,  as  close  to  Him  I  press. 

All  night  I  wrestled  with  the  Man  Divine, 
Resisted  His  great  kindness, — undeserved; 
He  touched  my  will ;  it  shrank  beneath  His  hand 
And  now  forever  His,  this  soul  of  mine. 
The  vision  of  my  God  my  life  preserved, 
Now  mine  the  princely  power  to  make  demand. 

68 


THE  SPRING-TIDE  OF  THE  SOUL 


"Rise,  up,  My  Love,  My  fair  one,  and  come  away.  For  lo,  the  winter 
is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone;  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth;  the 
time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard 
in  our  land.  Arise,  My  love.  My  fair  one,  and  come  away." — Song  of 
Sol.  2:10-13. 

"Rise  up,  My  love,  My  fair  one," 

And  haste  with  Me  away; 
For  lo,  the  earth  is  smiling, 
And  flow'rets  blossom  gay. 

The  winter  now  is  over, 

The  clouds  and  rain  are  past; 

The  spring-tide  we  have  waited, 
Is  hailed  with  joy  at  last. 

The  birds  are  sweetly  singing, 

The  fair  dove  woos  its  mate, 
And  all  the  pulse  of  nature 

With  new  life  I  create. 

"Rise  up,  My  love,  My  fair  one," 

In  resurrection  might; 
Forget  the  night  of  sorrow, 
And  plume  thy  wings  for  flight. 

"Rise  up,  My  love,  My  fair  one," 

What  words  of  Heavenly  cheer! 
O  weary-hearted  toiler, 
Thy  Saviour  draweth  near. 

69 


THE  SPRING-TIDE  OF  THE  SOUL 

"My  love"— O  blessed  Saviour! 

What  means  this  message  sweet? 
My  soul  is  mean  and  lowly; 
For  me  this  is  not  meet. 

And  yet  'tis  whispered  softly, 
In  tones  so  sweet  and  clear, 

I  know  it  is  my  Saviour, 
And  so  I  need  not  fear. 

"Rise  up,  My  love,  My  fair  one;" 

I  make  all  old  things  new; 
The  past  of  sin  and  failure 
I'll  banish  from  thy  view. 

So,  gladly  now  I  hearken, 

And  yield  to  Love's  sweet  call; 

I  rise  to  do  His  bidding, 
And  leave  for  Him  my  all. 


70 


THE  CHRISTMAS  SIGN 


"And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  you;  ye  shall  find 
the   Babe.  .  .  .  lying   in    a   manger." — Luke   2:12. 


What  is  the  sure,  sweet  Sign  that  tells  aright 

That  Christ  has  come?     That  God  on  earth  has  found 

A  resting  place?     That  grace  shall  now  abound, 

And  through  earth's  darkest  clouds  His  glory  light 

Has  condescended  to  illume  our  night? 

What  strange  and  blinding  sight  of  King  star-crowned 

May  we  expect,  to  fell  us  to  the  ground? 

Nay,  in  a  tiny  Babe  God  hides  His  might. 

And  thus  today  the  way  of  Heaven's  King; 

He  comes  not  with  a  haughty  monarch's  tread, 

But  makes  still  true  the  same  sweet  Christmas  sign, — 

While  of  His  birth  the  high  arch-angels  sing, 

He  makes  our  longing  heart  His  manger  bed, 

And  crowned  within  we  find  the  Babe  Divine. 

71 


FOLDED  WINGS 


'And  there  was  a  voice  from  the  firmament  that  was  over  their  heads 
when    they    stood,    and    had    let    down    their    wings."— Ezekiel   1:25. 

The  seraphim  have  six  bright  wings, 
Two  wings  to  use  in  service  sweet, 

But  four  o'er  face  and  feet  to  fold, 
To  veil  themselves  in  worship  meet. 

In  silence  and  repose  they  stand, 

And  drop  their  wings  of  golden  light, 

As  sure  God's  will  is  done  in  rest 

As  when  they  take  their  circling  flight. 

Blest  seraphim,  we  learn  of  thee, 
'Tis  when  we  pause  at  God's  own  word 

And  fold  our  wings  of  service  quite, 

We  hear  His  voice,  our  souls  are  stirred. 

Unceasing  service  is  not  asked, 
His  worship  is  the  part  more  blest; 

In  adoration  at  His  feet, 
We  find  Himself,  we  know  His  rest. 

72 


SING  ALWAY 

Sing,  0  brook,  sing  and  flow, 
Sing  to  me  of  long  ago, 

Long  ago; 

Then  your  song  was  glad  and  gay, 
Now  'tis  minor  in  its  lay, 
But  sing,  brook,  sing  alway, 

Sing  and  flow. 

Scattered  flowers  on  your  breast, 
Fallen  petals  borne  to  rest, 

Brook,  sing  slow; 
Summer's  dream  is  gone  at  last, 
All  its  bloom  now  of  the  past, 
Withered  leaves  are  falling  fast, 

While  you  flow. 

Once  your  song,  like  my  heart, 
Fairly  leaped  with  joyous  art, 

Youth's  heyday; 

Winter's  cold  now  chills  your  song, 
But  it  will  not  be  for  long, 
For  Spring  comes,  glad  and  strong, 

Sing  alway. 

73 


SING  ALWAY 

Rippling  stream,  sing  and  laugh, 
But  you  cannot  match  by  half, 

My  heart's  lay. 
For  a  joy  supernal  springs, 
All  my  soul  with  rapture  sings, 
And  its  song  to  Heaven  rings, 

Praise  alway. 

Sing,  my  heart,  ever  sing, 
Soon  will  come  eternal  Spring, 

Bright  and  strong; 
Sorrow's  chill  will  soon  be  o'er, 
Joys  will  flow  forevermore, 
Thou  shall  know  on  Heaven's  shore 

Perfect  song. 

74 


'SHOWING  HIMSELF  THROUGH  THE  LATTICE" 

(Reprinted  from  The  Christian   Herald,  New  York  City) 
Song  of  Solomon  2:9 

A  lattice  work  of  wooden  bars 

Obscures  life's  view,  and  shuts  me  in; 

I  do  not  see  God's  purpose  kind, 

Or  what  my  danger  might  have  been, 

If  His  great  wisdom  from  above 

Had  not  supplied  this  fence  of  love. 

I  make  complaint,  but  as  I  gaze, 

I  see  each  bar  meets  with  a  cross, 

And  Calvary  thus  comes  to  view 
In  every  trial  and  grief  and  loss. 

God  nails  each  cross-bar  fast  and  sure, 

And  thus  my  lattice  is  secure. 

His  grace  now  comes  and  fills  my  soul; 

I  humbly  bow  at  His  dear  feet; 
The  cross  of  Christ  with  light  is  crowned, 

And  death  and  resurrection  meet, 
Until,  oh,  holy,  wondrous  sight! 
My  lattice  bars  shine  in  His  light. 

75 


'SHOWING  HIMSELF  THROUGH  THE  LATTICE" 

He  shows  Himself  through  every  cross; 
He  speaks  in  words  of  living  power: 
"Come  forth,  My  dove,  from  prison  bars, 
For  now  has  come  thine  Easter  hour; 
Arise,  My  love,  and  come  away, 
For  death  no  longer  holdeth  sway." 

The  rain  is  gone,  the  winter  past; 

The  springtime  violets  appear; 
The  cloudless  skies  unveiled  above, 

The  birds  sing  hymns  of  hallowed  cheer; 
Rejoice,  my  soul,  in  life  and  light, 
For  banished  are  the  shades  of  night. 

He  shows  Himself.  "Rabboni,  Lord!" 

My   raptured,   wondering  heart   outcries; 

He  shows  His  hands  and  feet,  still  scarred, 
And  tenderly  His  love  replies: 

"Tell  saddened  souls  I  go  before; 

The  tomb  is  empty  evermore." 

76 


FETTERED 

(Composed  at  the  age  of  sixteen) 

I  clip  thy  wings,  my  bird, 

In  kindly  love; 

Like  as  our  God  above 
Restraineth  us, 

When  we  would  soar  too  high, 

And  sinking  downward  die. 

Thou  art  too  weak,  my  bird, 

Thy  strength  to  try; 

Wounded  thou  canst  not  fly, 
So  rest  content; — 

God  holds  us  down  to  earth, 

To  give  new  pinions  birth. 

Thou  must  not  flutter  so, 

But  wait  in  peace ; 

When  all  thy  struggles  cease 
Thy  wounds  will  heal; 

I'll  care  for  thee  my  bird, 

Undoubting  trust  my  word. 

77 


FETTERED 

So  when  our  God  above, 

In  mercy  sweet, 

Restrains  our  erring  feet, 
We  murmur  sore; 

Nor  see  His  wisdom  great, 

While  mourning  o'er  our  fate. 

If  thou  wilt  still  rebel 

O  panting  heart! 

And  still  will  seek  to  part 
From  this  kind  love, 

I'll  give  thee  up  to  go 

To  death,  and  keenest  woe. 

But  if  content,  my  bird, 

Awhile  to  rest 

On  this  true,  loving  breast, 
Till  thou  art  healed; 

Then  shall  thou  soar  to  heaven, 

Thy  freedom  gladly  given. 


78 


'COME  WITH  ME' 


"Come  with  Me  from  Lebanon,  My  spouse.  .  .  .  Look  from  the  top 
of  Shenir  and  Hermon,  from  the  lions'  dens,  from  the  mountains  of  the 
leopards.— (Song  of  Sol.  4:8.) 

Look  with  Me,  thou  loved  one, 

From  the  lions'  den, 
From  the  leopards'  mountains, 

Far  from  mortal  ken; 
Shun  not  darksome  valley, 

Or  yon  fearsome  height; 
While  with  Me  abiding 

Naught  shall  thee  affright. 

Seems  it  strange  and  trying, 

In  thy  bridal  hour, 
I  should  seem  to  place  thee 

In  the  tempter's  power? 
I  would  have  thee  trust  Me 

In  the  darkest  place, 
And  would  have  thee  ever 

Prove  My  love  and  grace. 

For  I  trod  death's  valley, 

Scaled  the  mountains  steep, 
Faced  all  earthly  sorrow, 

To  the  saddest  deep ; 
Stopped  the  mouths  of  lions, 

Conquered  beasts  of  prey, 
Overcame  the  darkness, 

Turned  the  night  to  day. 

79 


"COME  WITH  ME" 

Come  with  Me,  My  fair  one, 

Come  and  falter  not, 
This  strange  path  of  trial 

Is  thy  earthly  lot; 
But  it  leadeth  upward 

To  fair  Hermon's  height, 
Where  My  glory  dwelleth, 

In  transcendent  light. 

Thou  art  ever  with  Me, 

All  I  have  is  thine, 
I  am  thine  forever, 

Thou,  all  fair,  art  Mine. 
See,  the  morn  is  breaking; 

Shadows  flee  away! 
All  the  gloom  is  scattered 

By  Love's  cloudless  Day. 


THE  SONG  AT  NIGHT 

Why  didst  thou  sing,  O  bird,  from  out  the  night, 
When  sable  arms  wrapped  earth  in  close  embrace; 
When  e'en  the  moon  had  hid  her  cheering  face ; 
When  stars  shone  far  away,  with  faintest  light, 
And  threatn'ing  wind  clouds  took  their  fitful  flight; 
Why  didst  thou  sing  thy  sweetest?     That  no  trace 
Of  pain  within  my  heart  should  find  a  place, 
And  earth's  sad  moan  give  way  to  Heaven's  delight? 

Did  some  blest  hint  of  gold  and  crimson  morn 

Break  o'er  thy  dreams,  and  cause  that  burst  of  song; 

Or  did  an  angel  gently  stir  thy  nest, 

That  so  a  sweet,  untimely  strain  be  born? 

What  matters?  'twas  God's  voice  to  right  the  wrong, 

And  bring  His  Psalm  of  peace  within  my  breast. 

81 


THE  GREED  OF  GOLD 

'Tis  greed  of  gold  that  warps  men's  souls  to-day, 
And  shrinks  and  shrivels  them  to  dwarfish  size; 
That  hinders  aspiration  toward  the  skies; 
That  walks  in  darkest  night,  a  starless  way, 
And,  Judas-like,  is  ready  to  betray 
That  nobler  self,  which  for  its  freedom  cries; 
Meanwhile,  the  groans  of  helpless  victims  rise, 
And  widows  with  their  children  weep  and  pray. 

Up,  sons  of  men!  and  break  the  shackles  loose, 
Lest    golden  guerdon  turn  to  sternest  chains, 
And  burn  thy  flesh  with  fire ;  lest  missing  life 
And  liberty,  ye  find  death  hath  no  use 
For  selfish  ease,  or  sordid,  earthly  gains, 
And  pays  no  ransom  in  the  last,  great  strife. 

82 


WORSHIP  IN  THE  FOREST 

(Composed  in  the  Cazadero  Redwood  Forest,  California) 

t  sweet  and  lonely  places,  unknown  to  all  but  God, 

The  wee,  fair,  wild  flowers  blossom,  where  man's  foot  hath  not  trod; 

hey  lift  their  tiny  faces,  without  a  trace  of  care, 
I  To  Him,  who  by  His  finger,  was  pleased  to  place  them  there. 
Their  perfume  like  a  spirit  ascends  to  offer  praise, 
I    And  thus  in  lowly  worship  is  spent  their  life's  few  days. 
The  tall  ferns  form  a  cloister,  the  stately  trees  stand  guard, 
1    The  birds  sing  fitting  anthems  above  the  grassy  sward; 
The  solemn  branches  tremble,  and  chant  confession  slow, 

With  penitential  wailing,  and  sobbing  soft  and  low. 

jThe  blithesome  squirrel  climbing  the  redwood's  hoary  bark, 

Is  like  a  careless  culprit  that  will  not  stay  to  hark. 
The  darling  baby-blue-eyes  are  wide  awake  with  bliss; 

A  daring  bee  profanely  makes  bold  to  steal  a  kiss. 
The  graceful  redwood  lily,  a  font  of  nectared  dew, 

The  sprays  of  wild-wood  lilac  lift  banners  fair  of  blue; 
The  columbine  has  candles,  alight  with  scarlet  glow, 

And  in  the  vale  beneath  them  the  dear,  meek  violets  grow. 
The  fragrant  breeze  is  swelling  within  the  forest  old, 

The  sun  like  lavish  monarch  pours  forth  his  shining  gold; 
|A  chime  of  fairy  sweetness  from  golden  lily  bells 
I   Proclaims  a  holy  Selah,  and  absolution  tells. 

0  gentle  forest  children,  in  worship  so  complete, 
With  no  regret  or  sorrow,  in  holy  blest  retreat, 

1  pray  you,  teach  me  fully  your  litany  sublime, 

t    That  I,  in  peace  and  gladness,  may  worship  all  the  time. 


-"LORD  IS  IT  I?" 

Lord,  is  it  I?     So  faithless  is  my  heart 
That  after  constant  intercourse  with  Thee 
These  many  days,  Thy  faithful  love  can  see 
The  traitor  self,  who  basely  would  depart 
And  then  betray  my  Lord?     Ah,  sorrow's  dart 
Pierced  sore  those  simple  men  of  Galilee 
At  thought  of  such  dark  sin  and  misery; 
No  marvel  that  my  own  hot  tears  should  start. 

Oh,  one  there  was  appalled  by  mortal  fear 
Who  dared  deny  Him  thrice,  and  all  in  woe 
Forsook  and  fled;  but  one  with  traitor  kiss 
For  silver  sold  His  Lord.    Christ,  draw  so  near 
That  naught  of  gold,  or  any  earthly  show, 
Could  cause  me  Thy  blest  cross  or  crown  to  miss. 

84 


THE  SEA 

I  yield  to  the  spell  of  thine  odorous  breath, 
I  bask  in  delight  by  thy  side, 
While  soft  dip  the  clouds  in  rare  opaline  tints, 
And  heaven  and  earth  are  allied. 

The  sea  gulls  sweep  low  o'er  thy  fair  ruffled  breast, 
And  bathe  in  thy  green  waves  of  light; 
Unfailing   thy  fulness,  unbounded   thy   strength, 
Resistless  thy  courage  and  might. 

Oh,  let  me  creep  closer,  great  Sea,  to  thy  heart, 
And  learn  from  thy  waves  as  they  roll, 
For  all  thy  vast  waters  call  ever  to  depths 
That  flow  and  recede  in  my  soul. 

I  listen  with  joy  to  thy  wonderful  tones, 
The  murmur  of  song  never  still, 
And  hear  in  the  rise  and  fall  of  thy  waves 
The  might  of  an  infinite  Will. 

Sweep  on,  with  thy  grandeur  and  motion  sublime, 
And  cover  the  sands  at  my  feet; 
Dash  high  on  the  rocks  that  oppose  thy  proud  march, 
And  never  acknowledge  defeat. 

But  sure  is  the  voice  of  eternal  decree, 
Which  fixes  unchanging  thy  bound, 
That  speaks  of  a  greatness  beyond  thy  great  power, 
And  tells  of  a  Conqueror  found. 


THE   SEA 

And  whether  a  murmur  of  lullaby  soft, 

Or  stormy  crescendo  I  hear, 

Thy  billows  sing  sweet  to  the  heart  seeking  rest, 

And  tell  me  of  love  without  fear. 

Oh,  sing  to  me,  soothe  me,  or  thunder  thy  tones, 
As  battle  thy  threatening  waves, 
Whatever  thy  mood  thou  hast  taught  me  to  know 
The  love  of  the  Strong  One  who  saves. 


BABY'S  HANDS 

Tiny  hands,  so  full  of   grace, 
Stealing,   stealing   o'er  my  face~ 
Restless,  loving  little  things, 
Soft  and  sweet  as  angels'  wings. 

Wee,  coquettish,  velvet  hands, 
With  each  touch  my  love  expands; 
By  their  winning  baby  art 
They  have  captured  all  my  heart. 

Dear  caresses,  ever  true, 
May  I  gladly  keep  in  view 
That  an  angel  from  above 
Holds  me  with  her  sweetest  love. 

Hands  so   dimpled,  sweet  and  dear, 
That  I  fain  would  shed  a  tear 
Lest  in  days  now  distant  far 
Sin  their  innocence  should  mar. 

87 


BABYS  HANDS 

Soft  they  come  and  soft  they  go, 
Chasing  every  thought  of  woe, 
And  I  quite  forget  to  weep 
While  those  hands   so   gently  creep. 

So  I  kiss  the  finger  tips, 
Passing  softly  o'er  my  lips, 
Praying  God  to  keep  these  hands 
Ever  true  to  His  commands. 

By  Thy  power,  O  Love  Divine, 
Hold  my  darling's  hands  in  Thine; 
Ever  guard  and  ever  guide 
By  Thy  hands  once  crucified. 

88 


LOVE'S  OFFSPRING 

Reprinted  from  Poets  and  Poetry  ef  Buffalo 

My  heart  is  like  a  soft,  soft  nest, 
Love-lined  with  gentlest  care, 

To  hold  in  tender,  joyous  rest 
A  sweet  bird  brooding  there ; 

A  waiting  life  beneath  her  breast 
Hath  chained  her  pinions  fair. 

0  trembling,  unborn  hope,  lie  still, 
Within  my  heart's  warm  hold; 

1  fain  would  hush  thy  eager  thrill, 
The  world  is  wide  and  cold, — 

Thy  tiny  shell  is  snug  and  still, 
Why  let  thy  life  unfold? 

With  joyous  psalm,  my  fair,  fair  bird 

Doth  seftly,  sweetly  sing, 
Awhile  the  life,  yet  scarcely  stirred, 

She  hides  'neath  patient  wing; 
I  listen,  lest  I  lose  a  word 

The  throbbing  air  may  bring; — 

89 


LOVE'S  OFFSPRING 

"Ah,  love  must  live  beyond  its  nest, 

I  hide  it  'neath  these  wings 
Until  my  life  burns  through  my  breast, 

And  into  being  brings 
The  sheltered  hope  o'er  which  I  rest 

Until  it  wakes  and  sings. 

"The  world  its  glad  song  cannot  chill, 

No  soul  can  e'er  forget 
That  it  has  known  the  rapturous  thrill 

Love's  loving  can  beget; 
And  when  at  last  all  life  seems  still, 

Immortal  love  loves  yet." 

90 


NIGHT  VOICES 

Alone  and  undisturbed,  I  hear 

The  voices  of  the  night; 
The  tuneful  choir  in  perfect  time 

Keeps  up  till  morning  light; — 
The  little  crickets  in  the  grass, 

And  frogs  at  slower  pace: 
One  sounds  a  high  soprano  note 

And  one  a  sombre  bass. 

A  serenade  of  wondrous  joy 

Sounds  through  the  grassy  vale, 
Until  the  moon-beams  fade  away 

And  stars  begin  to  pale. 
Now  faint  and  slow,  now  crisp  and  quick, 

The  sweet  night  song  goes  on, 
And  brings  a  strain  of  rest  and  peace 

To  watchers  sad  and  wan. 

The  tiny  harpers  weary  not 

They  play  the  live-long  night, 
For  some  lone  heart  may  need  their  cheer 

While  tarries  morning  light, 
And  thus  they  sing,  "All,  all  is  well, 

God  cares,  and  all  is  right. 
We'll  cheer  you  with  our  notes  of  praise, 

And  sing  with  all  our  might." 

91 


NIGHT  VOICES 

Sing  high,  sing  low,  with  rhythmic  swing, 

In  waves  of  music  rare, 
In  ceaseless  harmony  sublime, 

That  lulls  away  my  care. 
Then  hark!  my  soul,  and  make  no  stir, 

Nor  lose  a  throbbing  word; 
When  heart  is  hushed,  and  brain  is  still, 

Their  song  can  best  be  heard. 


TOWARD  THE  LIGHT 

Like  lofty  mountains  that  o'ertop  the  hills, 

The  men  of  genius  in  their  might  arise, 

And  in  their  lonely  grandeur  seek  the  skies 

For  that  sublime  companionship  which  fills 

The  heights, — that  solace  sweet  which  soothes  and  thrills, 

And  brings  an  answer  to  unuttered  cries; 

For  born  of  God  are  those  strange,  restless  sighs 

That  only  His  majestic  Presence  stills. 

But  as  the  earth-born  vapours  hide  the  light, 
And  mountains  towering  high  are  thus  obscured 
By  gloomy  mists  that  shroud  the  topmost  peak, 
So  noble  souls,  who  press  on  toward  the  right, 
By  reason's  doubts  and  fears  are  oft  immured, 
And  miss  His  love  Whom  gropingly  they  seek. 

93 


GOD'S  SYMPHONY 

All  things  around,  above,  are  full  of  song; 

Not  only  happy  birds  that  mount  on  wing, 

And  far  and  wide  their  wild-wood  music  fling, 

But  common  things  that  to  this  earth  belong, 

And  things  that  try  to  rise  up  from  the  wrong, 

Sad  souls  that  fain  to  others  joy  would  bring, 

And  those  that  well  might  weep  but  rather  sing 

Because  their  hearts  with  Christ's  own  might  are  strong. 

But  your  true  heart  must  be  in  closest  touch 
With  Love  Divine,  and  God's  own  music  reach 
The  holy  place  within  thine  inmost  soul 
E'er  angels  lend  their  aid,  revealing  much 
That  they  alone  to  childlike  souls  can  teach, 
And  God's  great  symphony  shall  o'er  thee  roll. 


THEN  SHALL  WE  KNOW 


"Then   shall   we  know,   if   we   follow  on   to  know  the   Lord : 
His   going   forth  is   prepared   as   the   morning." — Hosea   6:3. 


"Then  shall  we  know,"  if  we  but  press 

Close  in  the  steps  Christ  trod, 
For  He  alone  reveals  the  path, 

And  is  the  way  to  God; 
We  hear  His  sweet  voice,  "Follow  Me," 

We  may  not  then  delay, 
But  heed  the  call  of  our  Beloved 

Into  the  narrow  way. 

"Then  shall  we  know,"  oh,  blessed  word 

To  those  who  follow  on, 
His  "going  forth"  is  all  "prepared," 

Alike  the  sun  that  shone 
On  misty  clouds  of  early  gloom 

And  chased  them  all  away, 
Until  the  dawning  morning  light 

Had  come  to  perfect  day. 

"Then  shall  we  know,"  no  mist  of  doubt 

Shall  cloud  our  perfect  faith 
As  we  but  will  to  do  His  will, 

And  follow  where  He  saith. 
Through  winding  paths  He  leads  His  own, 

Mid  thorns,  or  rose-bowered  way, — 
It  matters  not,  His  rod  and  staff 

Are  still  my  strength  and  stay. 

95 


THEN  SHALL  WE  KNOW 

"Then  shall  we  know,"  oh,  footprints  blest 

Of  that  dear  suffering  Guide! 
The  way  is  marked  with  sorrow-drops 

From  out  His  riven  side. 
Then  let  my  soul  press  ever  on 

In  steps  of  Love  Divine, 
Until  the  mercy  of  my  God 

In  cloudless  day  doth  shine. 

96 


MOTHER'S  WATCH-CARE 

Mother  comes  to  watch  thee  sleeping, 

Darling  baby  girl; 
Comes  with  airy,  noiseless  footstep, 

Lest  thy  lids  unfurl. 

Draws  the  downy  covers  closer, 

Lest  a  zephyr  stray, 
Stealing  in  thy  little  cradle, 

Dares  to  stop  and  play. 

Waits  to  see  if  thou  art  weeping 

O'er  a  dream  of  night, 
Soft  to  speak  the  word  of  comfort, 

And  to  quell  thy  fright. 

Kneels  beside  thee,  little  treasure, 
Breathing  prayer  and  praise, 

Asking  God  to  guide  and  guard  thee 
All  thy  earthly  days. 

Prints  a  kiss  so  very  lightly 

On  thy  dewy  brow; 
All  is  well — the  angels  guard  thee, 

Mother  leaves  thee  now. 

Leaves  until  new  fears  awaken, 

And  her  ceaseless  love 
Soft  the  same  sweet  path  retraces 

To  her  sleeping  dove. 

97 


MOTHER'S    WATCH-CARE 

Mother-heart,  so  dear  and  tender, 

Mother-love,  so  true, 
Thou  dost  bring  my  Saviour's  pity 

Strangely  to  my  view. 

For  His  watch-care  never  slumbers, 

So  I  sink  to  rest 
In  the  Mother-love  eternal 

Of  a  Saviour's  breast. 


MY  OLIVE  BRANCH 

(Composed  at  the  age  of  seventeen) 

My  heart's  an  ark, 

That  rides  Life's  stormy  sea; 
One  little  lonely  bark, 
Sailing  the  waters  dark, 

Wonderingly. 

Hungry  for  rest, 

It  longs  at  peace  to  be; 
Weary  of  fruitless  quest, 
Crying  in  fear  suppressed, 

Yearningly. 

O'er  the  waves  cold 

Ambition  flieth  free; 
Flies  as  the  raven  bold 
Flew  from  the  ark  of  old, 
Daringly. 

Flying  above, 

He  never  returns  to  me; 
Then  soareth  faithful  love, 
Hast'neth  my  snow-winged  dove, 

Trustfully. 


MY  OLIVE  BRANCH 

No  rest  in  sight, 

So  homeward  turneth  she; 
Staying  her  hopeless  flight, 
Biding  the  dawn  of  light, 

Patiently. 

The  wild  winds  cease, 

Again  she  skims  the  sea; 
Bringeth  the  branch  of  peace, 
Telling  of  sweet  release, 
Cheeringly. 

And  now  she's  flown 

For  aye  away  from  me; 
My  love  has  found  its  own, 
Resting  at  Jesus'  throne, 
Blessedly. 

The  ark  will  stop, 

The  wearied  heart  be  free; 
Seeing  the  last  storm-drop, 
'Twill  touch  the  mountain-top 

Joyfully. 

100 


WORSHIP 

"The  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  Him;" 
And  my  poor  heart  with  all  its  feeble  strength 
Is  reaching  out  to  bring  in  ceaseless  streams 
My  offering  of  praise,  to  Thee,  my  God. 
Since  then  Thy  condescension  seeketh  me, 
And  I  a  worm  of  dust  am  seeking  Thee, 
Shall  not  the  two  quests  meet  in  blissful  rest? 
Thy  heart  of  love  and  goodness  find  its  due 
In  a  full  tide  of  praise  from  Thy  redeemed, 
And  I,  recipient  of  Thy  matchless  grace 
Be  lost  for  aye  in  mercy's  boundless  flow. 
"Who  offers  praise  is  glorifying  Me," 
Thou  hast  declared,  so  even  I  may  add 
My  tribute  small  of  glory  to  Thy  Name, 
And  bask  in  Heaven's  joy  adoring  Thee. 

101 


"SOMEBODY  HATH  TOUCHED  ME" 

Somebody  touched,  with  a  faith  sublime, 

Somebody  touched  my  Lord, 
Out  of  His  body  the  virtue  flowed, 
Thus  was  the  gift  of  health  bestowed 

Through  Jesus  the  living  Word. 

Somebody  pressed  through  the  jostling  crowd, 

Somebody  made  her  way 
Close  to  the  side  of  the  pitying  One, 
Touched  His  robe  and  the  deed  was  done; 

Oh,  who  will  touch  Him  today? 

"Someone  hath  touched  Me ;"  yes,  only  one, — 

Somebody  gained  faith's  reward; 
She  must  not  be  hidden,  but  own  His  great  love, 
So  others  may  prove  His  great  power  from  above  ;- 
Somebody  touched  My  Lord. 

Come  all  of  you,  sinful  and  sick  ones  today, 

Blessing  His  love  shall  afford, 
The  healing  now  flows  from  His  riven  side, 
Press  past  unbelievers,  who  scoff  and  deride, 

Come  quickly,  and  touch  my  Lord. 

102 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  PINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
T-MS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $I.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


OCT    1    1935 

HM  —  y-T   L  /-••'- 

N   oiACK  ) 

NOv     7  1?80 

RECC/Rmpin-Ri 

LD  21-100m-7,'33 

YB    i 

U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


